


Gilded

by olddarkmachine



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Can I make it anymore obvious?, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, and you get them off instead ba dum tss, he was a hitman, he was a mafia boss, that awkward moment you get paid to off someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28923582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olddarkmachine/pseuds/olddarkmachine
Summary: “I was taught to never dance with strangers,” Keith manages, trying to ignore the way his thumb brushes across his cheek. He means it as a challenge. A gamble to see just who his target will introduce himself as.Not that it truly matters.Either way, by the end of the night, his heart won’t be beating.Shirogane’s smile only widens, touching his eyes as it pulls at their corners.“Takashi.” He says the name easily as he pulls his hand away, instead taking Keith’s empty flute from his hand and dropping both their glasses on a passing tray.“What?” In a moment of breathlessness, he forgets to add strength behind the word and he’s certain Shirogane’s missed it.“My name is Takashi.” Takashi Shirogane. The name makes his veins sizzle as it spins around his mind, until he is almost dizzy with it. Lost to the repeating track, Keith almost misses the expectant look leveled on him.“Keith,” he finally manages as he swallows down the bright taste tickling the back of his tongue. Shirogane’s smile only brightens.“Now we aren’t strangers,” he replies, offering his hand. “Dance with me.”
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 165





	Gilded

**Author's Note:**

> While I’m working on things I started and never finished, here’s a fucky one shot that was a plague on my home for far longer than it shoulda been

“It would be the usual deal,” Kolivan’s voice is hard, authoritative as he drops a manila folder onto the table between them. Keith watches as it slides across the metallic surface, stopping just in front of him, its top left open and waiting for him to take it.

The usual deal meant that for just one night, Keith could pad his bank account for the next six months and focus on other things that he liked to do.

Like work on that vintage Harley he’d bought with his last hit’s price tag.

Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t not like his job, there were just other things he’d rather do with his time than commit systematic assassinations on people that the Altean government found to be too much of a headache to deal with by the book.

As an idealistic youth, he would have been appalled by how things were really handled by their city’s government.

Of course, that had been before he realized how lucrative a business it was to take out whoever they deemed bad guys.

Before he’d realized just how _good_ he was at it.

Maybe this time, he could buy himself that vintage BMW R 69.

“Who’s the target this time?” He asks, voice like smoke as he grabs the envelope and pulls the photos from inside. There’s only three, and they’re hardly better than supposed cryptid shots. Even through the graininess, he can make out enough of the man in the photos to know that he won’t be an easy target.

 _Good_ , he thinks ruefully as he thumbs through them, dusting his gaze over each one in an attempt to pull further information from them.

 _He had always liked a challenge_.

“Shirogane is the name,” Kolivan says brusquely. “Head of Atlas.”

Keith does his best to swallow the sound of his surprise as he hears the name, his thumb pressing into the corner of one picture in particular as he focuses on the sting of its edge.

In it, Shirogane is looking up at something. There’s no way for him to know what it is, the shot cutting off before it could reveal anything else, but he can’t help but think he looks pleasant. As if he’s looking up at the sky.

“The trade company?” He asks, filling his voice with a practiced casualness as if he doesn’t know the truth. There isn’t a person in the darkened corners of the city that didn’t know the name Shirogane.

That didn’t fear it.

Didn’t respect it.

For some reason, Keith had always thought he’d be older.

Even with the bright white that streaks the front of his hair, Keith can tell he’s not much older than himself. Just barely thirty, at most.

“A ruse,” Kolivan says smoothly, not trying to mask the way he rolls his eyes. They both know Keith is well aware of what Atlas is, but he plays along if only because he needs something.

“He’s the most powerful boss of the syndicates, and he’s been a real thorn in our side with how many of the politicians he has under his thumb.”

He knows that much as well. Hell, Keith can think of five just off the top of his head that he knew were under Shirogane’s influence. The syndicate boss supplied the drugs and fun times, and they provided all the legal necessities that kept him from being crushed beneath the thumb of those that opposed him and the way he’s turned their city into something dirty.

Or rather, something dirtier.

Altea wasn’t as pristine as they liked to pretend, and Shirogane had just taken advantage of that fact. As far as Keith saw it, they had no one to blame but themselves.

But who was he to turn down a paying job.

After all, even hitmen still had bills.

“And you’re finally tired of dealing with him?” Keith asks, laying the photos out beside his dagger. It’s dark metal glints like something sinister in the light.

“There’s an election coming up.” The way Kolivan says it sounds like it should be the only answer Keith needs. He’s smart enough to put together the importance of having Shirogane removed from the equation, and the quickly approaching election date. Removing his influence would almost guarantee the head seat for whoever Kolivan was throwing his support behind.

Keith regards the politician closely as he stares over him, waiting for an answer.

With the way he’s holding himself, he briefly wonders if maybe it’s Kolivan himself looking toward that seat.

Dropping his chin on an open palm, Keith tilts his head. If he was being honest, he does like the man. There’s something about him that he’s always respected, even when he’s stooping to levels as low as himself to get what he wanted.

In fact, he thinks he respects him more for making decisions others would be too scared to make.

All was fair in love, war, and politics after all.

“I want double,” he says finally, watching the way Kolivan's shoulders seize at the request. It’s a test more than a genuine request. Keith is more than fine with their usual deal, but he wants to see just how serious they are this time.

A muscle jumps angrily in his jaw.

“Fine,” he growls, thrusting the palms of his hands down on the table as he stares harshly at him. Deep in his dark eyes, Keith swears he can see the gleam of a raging fire.

Very serious, then.

“So do we have a deal?”

Dragging his stare back down to the photos, Keith traces over them one more time. They may be grainy, but there’s something about them that stands out.

Shirogane’s eyes.

They’re haunting. A grey caught between shining silver and a roiling tempest. It makes him look otherworldly.

Beautiful, even.

Keith brushes a finger across the scar that runs over the bridge of Shirogane’s nose. He’s a fighter, it says. That very thought makes Keith’s mouth pool as he grabs his dagger, flipping it around his fingers with a flourish before thrusting it into the holster strapped to his thigh.

“Alright,” he says around a pointed smile as he stands, the screech of the metal chair legs against tile making him shiver. “I’m in.”

***

The cool air is biting, nipping at the exposed skin of Keith’s face and hands as he settles himself at the edge of the grand patio with his sights set on the blaze of the city lights below. Bass thumps loudly at his back, trying to escape the glass of the mansion that stands proudly behind him like some modern emulation of the Grecian style.

Sleek, and crafted of crisp white stone and shimmering crystal, it’s ostentatious, even for the head of a crime syndicate and his black market puppets.

Looming amongst the hills outside the city, it’s like a vengeful god watching over the very people that everyone inside viewed as nothing more than systematic pawns in their own sick games.

Greed, hunger, and violence made a home within the mansion’s walls, twisting and moving in its malevolence to the beat of the loud music emanating from the great hall.

The weight of it had been stifling, pushing Keith from the decadent interior and grinding, drunk bodies and instead towards the outdoors in a vain attempt to escape the crush of it against his shoulders.

Almost an hour in, and he still hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of the night’s main attraction.

Shaking his head slightly, he ducks his scowl behind the rim of his glass. The sharp bite of his champagne coats his tongue and washes away his disappointed thoughts as he silently wonders if Shirogane was even there.

It would almost be fitting if he wasn’t. The man was practically mythic, darkening the streets of the city that burned so brightly below him now, and doing so without ever revealing his own hand.

Shirogane, in his own right, was nothing more than an untouchable shadow.

Lowering his glass, Keith presses the base of his forearms against the crystal barrier that separates him from a deadly fall as he took it all in.

Even with her dirty secrets revealed to him, he still finds the city beautiful.

Alluring, even, as her lights flicker like stars that had fallen from the heavens.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A voice rumbles beside him, mired in a strength that Keith can hear, even over the thump of the bass against its confining walls. Its sudden appearance makes him jump slightly, his senses racing to catch up as he snaps his attention to the newcomer. His arrival had been silent, void of any presence at all. There’s a danger in it. The kind that blankets his skin with the uncomfortable tickle of dread and raises the hair along the back of his neck.

There’s a moment, suspended on his bated breath as he openly stares at the man beside him. Dressed in a dark suit, accented by even darker floral embroidery and velvet lapels, he is a paragon of authority. It rolls from him in waves as his silver eyes flay Keith’s skin right there on the sprawling patio.

He knows he should feel something like fear.

Or failure.

Being seen by the mark is something to be avoided. The best never let themselves be seen at all.

That much Keith knows.

But this is a first, and he can’t help but track the bright white of a scar peeking up from the open neck of Shirogane’s unbuttoned dress shirt.

The pictures Kolivan had hadn’t done him any justice at all.

Sipping the warming champagne in his hand, Keith counts to five in a vain attempt to clear the sudden fog clouding his thoughts.

“If overly done showcases of excess turn you on,” he says with a shrug, balancing his words on nonchalance as he emerges from his glass. The bite of it is meant to deter, only it seems to have the opposite effect on the mafia boss. Lips quirking at their edges, he languidly draws his stare down Keith’s frame. It lingers in the most damnable of places, the headiness of it going straight to his head more so than any of the champagne has before his gaze continues its trek.

An appreciative hum burns through the night air as Shirogane takes a sip of his own drink.

Bourbon, Keith thinks as light catches the amber liquid.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” Shirogane volleys, arching a brow in silent question and something that feels a lot like a warning as he leans a hip against the same crystal holding him up. Keith’s heart responds with a sharp kick at the top of his ribcage, filling him with a nerve he’s never felt before. It’s raw as it works against him in crashing waves timed with the thumping bass of the music inside.

“Maybe you just aren’t observant,” he says, swallowing around the beating lump that’s stuck in his throat, offering what he hopes is a reassuring smile. Shirogane, to his credit, takes another sip as he languidly pulls another all consuming stare over him.

It feels as if he truly sees him. It’s one thing he shouldn’t want, yet he can’t help the small curl of warmth that burrows deep in his chest that makes him think that maybe he enjoys how it feels to be seen.

Making a sound in the back of his throat in disagreement, Shirogane shakes his head.

“I’m always observant when it comes to pretty things.”

A retort sticks to the inside of his throat as his mouth goes dry, eyes widening as he openly stares now.

“Do you know who I am?” Shirogane continues and it sounds like a test. It’s Keith’s turn to shake his head as he tries to quiet the pulse rivaling the sound of music in his ears.

“No,” he says as he tips his chin up in an act of defiance. The man’s smirk goes sharp with dark humor as he keeps his eyes on him, reaching forward with his metallic hand that glints ominously with the light. There are numerous stories about that arm, and most, Keith knows, are just rumors. But there’s one story in particular about how that arm had gotten him to the head of Atlas in the first place, that seems mired in truth.

It’s a weapon of the highest caliber. One with a death list a mile long, but resting against his cheek, it feels soft and oddly warm.

“Dance with me.” It isn’t a question, or even a request. It’s a command. One that Keith doesn’t want to follow, but he knows he will because it wraps deliciously around his throat.

For just a moment, he gets lost in the way the twisting lights catch in Shirogane’s white hair.

“I was taught to never dance with strangers,” Keith manages, trying to ignore the way his thumb brushes across his cheek. He means it as a challenge. A gamble to see just who his target will introduce himself as.

Not that it truly matters.

Either way, by the end of the night, his heart won’t be beating.

Shirogane’s smile only widens, touching his eyes as it pulls at their corners.

“Takashi.” He says the name easily as he pulls his hand away, instead taking Keith’s empty flute from his hand and dropping both their glasses on a passing tray.

“What?” In a moment of breathlessness, he forgets to add strength behind the word and he’s certain Shirogane’s missed it.

“My name is Takashi.” Takashi Shirogane. The name makes his veins sizzle as it spins around his mind, until he is almost dizzy with it. Lost to the repeating track, Keith almost misses the expectant look leveled on him.

“Keith,” he finally manages as he swallows down the bright taste tickling the back of his tongue. Shirogane’s smile only brightens.

“Now we aren’t strangers,” he replies, offering his hand. “Dance with me.”

Flicking his gaze between the Atlas leader and his outstretched hand, Keith mentally admonishes himself for even entertaining the idea. He really shouldn’t.

This is a dangerous game with high stakes, and Keith is one of the best players if only because he doesn’t make mistakes, and this is the biggest of them all.

Yet, trapped beneath the weight of Shirogane’s sharpened smile, an electric pulse across his chest tells him he’s going to make it anyway.

After what feels like an isolated eternity, Keith reaches out and takes his hand.

***

It’s decidedly warmer inside the mansion as Keith follows behind his mark, dragged forward through the flush of dancing bodies by the strong hold of his metallic hand. He feels the warm wetness of sweat as it gathers at his collar.

Letting his eyes wander across the crowd, he can’t help but feel underdressed in his oxblood dress shirt and tight fitted black pants amongst the sea of couture velvet and leather.

The only part of his ensemble that truly fit in with the theme, had been the leather garter belt that cinched his waist and ran straps down his hips and towards the garters at his thighs. Accented with shining metal buckles and rings, it was the perfect accessory to fulfill his stolen invites dress code, while simultaneously offering the perfect camouflage for the thin knife that weighed heavy against the front of his hip where it was hidden in the leather.

Shirogane’s hand grips tighter in his, pulling him back from the sharp blade of his thoughts and passed a group that had gathered right there on the dance floor.

Bodies turned golden by paint and metallic latex sway through the dense crowd, their skin catching light like the precious metal it’s meant to personify.

They’re meant as party favors. An offering to Shirogane’s guests, there are very few in the crowd that don’t show telltale signs of attention.

With gold peeking above collars and smeared across mouths, it’s obvious the type of favor that they’re meant to provide.

A golden woman eyes him with a hazy stare as she peels herself away from the throng of sweaty bodies, reaching toward him with a molten smile filled with intent. Sidestepping easily, Keith barely spares a glance back to see her hands land instead on the man who had been behind him.

Attention is not something he wishes to seek here.

 _At least, not her attention._ The dangerous thought runs electric through him as he turns his own focus back to the broad figure pushing through the crowd before him.

It hadn’t escaped his notice that Shirogane was also missing the glittering touch of any gold.

Shirogane’s hold tightens briefly as he tugs him sharply towards him, twisting him so that Keith’s back hits his chest. A shiver traps itself between them as he looks out over the secluded corner that the mafia head had brought them to. There are few bodies here, and fewer wandering gazes as they melt into the shadows just barely touched by the swirling lights above.

“Not a fan of my gifts?” He growls close to Keith’s ear, the heat of his breath making the onyx waves around it dance as he closes his hands on either side of his hips.

A sharp spark rocks through his veins and makes his pulse leap as Keith realizes that they’re so large, they almost encircle his waist entirely.

Pressing back into his touch, he brushes his fingertips of the backs of Shirogane’s hands, humming over the dual sensation of burning skin and cool metal before he runs his touch up the length of the other man’s arms, following the path over his shoulders, and then behind his neck. With a gentle tug, Keith leads his face closer as he lets his head fall back until his lips brush against the skin just below Shirogane’s ear.

“I always preferred silver,” he says brusquely. Shirogane’s hips grind against his own, the harsh line of his length catching against his ass as he rumbles a pleased sound that vibrates through Keith’s back.

The mafia leader’s nose drags a staticky line down along his bared throat, the tickling rasp of stubble pushing a secretive smile across his lips. Keith runs hot as he feels lips press a soft kiss to his thrumming pulse followed by the sharp pinch of teeth.

“Good,” Shirogane says possessively, voice going dark as he presses the single word into his skin like a brand.

Rolling his hips back, Keith sucks his bottom lip between his teeth as he feels Shirogane’s hands trace along the top of his harness. They linger at the buckle just above his belly button before they start their slow decent down the leather straps. Fire, bright and impossibly hot, lays in the wake of his touch as his palms as they pause at Keith’s hips, holding him close as he languidly rolls against him again.

A quiet moan escapes his lips before Shirogane’s hands continue their curious trail down toward the garter around his thighs. It isn’t until his fingers skim mere centimeters from the hidden hilt of his knife that Keith feels his heart jump with the intoxicating thrill of danger.

Quick as an adder, Keith’s hands catch Shirogane’s, pulling them away roughly as he spins to face the man. Fixing him with a look of clear intent, he places places his hands low on his own back before he pushes up to catch Shirogane’s mouth in a bruising kiss.

It’s almost terrifying, the way the electricity that shocks between them heightens into a full blown storm as Shirogane returns the kiss in kind, pressing his tongue to the seam of Keith’s lips without looking for invitation. He is a man used to taking, and Keith is all too willing to give as he lets him in.

Swallowing down the deep growl that Shirogane pushes into his mouth, Keith rolls his hips in primal search of friction. The fires of Shirogane’s touch blister down his back as he lets his hands wander lower, stopping only as they grab tightly at Keith’s ass.

“Takashi,” Keith hears himself moan, the breathiness of his voice turning it into something sinful.

Pulling back quickly at the sound of his name, Shirogane stares down at Keith with a stare mired in danger. Pinned beneath it, Keith understands how he had found his way to the top of a mile high pile of death, and he wonders distantly if he might be in over his head.

He thinks he might be since his nerves light with the need to run, but his veins fill with a desperate need to get lost to the depths of the darkness in those eyes.

Keith knows which wins out when Shirogane swipes his metal thumb across his bottom lip, collecting the wetness there before his lips quirk in a triumphant smirk. Wordlessly, he clutches at Keith’s arm, pulling him once more through the crowd and toward the staircase situated toward the back of the room.

Taking the stairs quickly, Shirogane gives a deft nod toward the two guards that step easily aside for him at the top.

“Keep an eye on things,” he orders harshly, voice promising a violent retribution should they do otherwise before he falls back into determined silence as he leads them down a long hall toward a set of heavy looking doors.

Keith only gets a moment to admire the dark wood before he finds himself pushed through them, his back slamming back against it before the door even finishes closing.

Lips press harshly against his own, continuing where they left off as Shirogane licks the back of his teeth. Hands return to his hips, tightening enough to bruise before he drags them down towards the back of Keith’s thighs. With a sharp tug, he’s pulling him up, crushing him between the door and his taller frame as Keith folds his legs around his hips.

The new position offers more friction as he rolls against Shirogane and scratches at the back of his nape. It’s intoxicating, and Keith thinks he could lose himself to this. Could let himself pretend this was just a hookup and that he wasn’t an assassin and Shirogane wasn’t a murderer.

If only he could just let himself.

Oh, if only, _if only._

Slowly dragging a hand down from the back of his neck, Keith follows down the track of Shirogane’s shoulders and down his arm, coming to a rest at his own thigh. Keith’s fingers close around the metal ring there, slowly pulling the hidden knife free of its concealed sheath as he sucked Shirogane’s tongue further into his mouth. Blindly positioning it at his ribs, he lets a slow exhale through his nose.

Then he feels the cold press of a muzzle beneath his chin.

“I see you brought a knife to a gun fight,” Shirogane says, voice roughened by fire and slick delight. His eyes dance with the same fiery excitement as he stares down at his would be killer.

“Don’t underestimate what I could do to you with this knife before you can even think to pull that trigger,” Keith hisses, pressing the tip of his knife into Shirogane’s skin just hard enough to know he’ll feel the sting.

Instead of abating the bright look in his eyes, it earns him a low growling moan that’s almost animalistic as Shirogane rolls up against him.

“Oh, baby, you do know how to talk dirty.”

The flames deep in Keith’s gut flare, threatening to consume him as he feels himself grind down, meeting Shirogane’s thrusts mindlessly.

“Tell me one reason I shouldn’t finish my job right now, Shirogane,” he tries to snarl, not believing his own threat but praying nonetheless that the man before him does. If only to save a bit of face.

Never has he failed to complete a job.

But never has a job looked quite as good as Takashi Shirogane.

Keith sees the moment he picks up on his bluff. It’s not subtle at all as Shirogane’s eyes brighten in challenge. Pushing upward with the gun’s muzzle, he tilts Keith’s head back just enough to give himself better access to his throat. He tries— and fails— to swallow down the keening sound that escapes his chest as Shirogane laves a wet kiss just beneath his ear.

“Because I,” he starts, only pausing to place another open mouthed kiss just inches lower. His lips hover just above his quickened pulse for a moment, his breaths cooling the slick from his mouth before continuing.

“Can make you feel,” he pauses again to bite at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. It’s a dull pinch that is soothed slightly when Shirogane sucks gently at the skin.

“So good,” he finishes before licking a line back up the sinful path he’d trekked. Pausing to huff a small laugh that stirs the hair by Keith’s ear, he pulls back to level him with his stare. It shines like the polished metal forcing his chin upward, and it feels twice as dangerous.

“And, I so would hate to ruin such a beautiful face.”

The sharp clatter of metal on the marble floor pierces through the quiet din of the room as Keith drops his knife, instead grasping at his nape to pull him close for another heady and angry kiss. He swallows Shirogane’s triumphant sound, barely registering the heavier sound of his gun joining the dagger on the floor.

“I’ll still kill you,” Keith growls into his mouth, hips coming down against Shirogane’s as he walks them toward the bed at the back of the room. The world tilts as he lowers them both, pushing Keith back into the plush pillows at the headboard. Shirogane’s weight is all encompassing, and he covers Keith wholly with his body, trapping him amongst the satin covered bedding before he finally decides to pull away.

“I look forward to it, Keith Kogane,” he rumbles wickedly.

Keith’s name on his tongue should scare him, he knows that. It means his cover was blown before he had even arrived, and yet he can’t quite bring himself to care as he arches up into Shirogane’s touch as he grasps him through his pants.

Mouth cracking wide around a gasp, Keith rocks up into his grasp, distantly aware of his other hand as it makes quick work of the buckles of his harness.

“Tonight, though, I want to make you scream,” Shirogane says, pushing the harness away from his waist and legs, tugging at them sharply and freeing them from his body. Quickly discarding them off the side of the bed, he loosens his hold on Keith’s length, instead dragging that hand slowly up toward his stomach.

“Does that sound okay with you, baby?” He asks, not waiting for an answer before he grabs at Keith’s shirt and rips it open, exposing his heaving chest to the air of the room. Keith doesn’t miss the way Shirogane’s eyes trail across the goosebumps that race along his skin.

“Yes,” he croaks, fisting his own hand into the lapel of Shirogane’s jacket and pulling at him.

“Good,” he laughs darkly before he lets himself be pulled back to Keith’s mouth. Licking into the warm wet heat, he lets his hands wander until they find the buttons of Shirogane’s jacket. Clumsily tugging them from their holes, Keith gives a small hum of pleasure as he finally pushes the jacket back from his shoulders.

Without pulling away from his kiss, Shirogane pulls the jacket the rest of the way off before dropping it on the ground beside the harness. The sound of ripping fabric plays in harmony with their gasping breaths as Keith rips his shirt in kind, letting his hands find the hard lines of Shirogane’s toned stomach as the ruined shirt joins their other clothing on the floor.

Feeling the muscles flutter at his touch, Keith smiles into the kiss as he lets his hands roam across the newly exposed expanse.

Keith hands run up the length of his flank, the tickling brush of his palm earning a full bodied shudder as Shirogane quickly undoes the buttons of his pants. It’s then that he finally pulls away to violently tug the confining pants from Keith’s frame.

The assassin admires the way Shirogane’s chest heaves with his breath as he towers over him, and the way sweat has gathered along his collar. In the light, it’s almost as if his skin is gilded just like his so called party favors on the dance floor, and the very thought makes Keith ache as he reaches back out toward him.

Leaning back into Keith’s arms easily, Shirogane rolls against him as his mouth finds his pulse once more. Sucking dark marks into his throat, Keith finds himself burning with the knowledge that he’ll wear Shirogane’s marks for days.

A contented sigh parts his lips as he rakes his nails down the meat of Shirogane’s shoulder blades, relishing in the way it makes the man move against him. The power that radiates through Shirogane is a near palpable thing, one that lights him with awe and the potent thrum of a want so strong that he can’t breathe around it.

Pressing his face upward into his shoulder, Keith tries to force the air in and out of his lungs as Shiro continues decorate his skin with a glorious collection of purples and blacks. A particularly wet suckle pushes what little air had still been left in his lungs through his mouth.

Chasing after it, Keith presses his teeth to Shirogane’s shoulder and bites down hard, mouth filling with the salty, metallic tang of blood.

A grunted sound of delight and pain vibrates through him as Shirogane’s hand fists tightly in his hair, and then he finds himself flipped with half his face shoved into the mattress.

“Baby,” Shirogane hushes, and Keith can’t tell if it’s meant to be a praise or an admonishment as the hold in his hair still dances along the line of pleasure and pain. His other hand caresses his hip before gently pulling it upward so that his ass is tilted upward. There’s the soft sound of leather pulling from metal as Shirogane undoes his belt, followed by the quiet rustle of fabric before he feels the hot drag of his length between his cheeks.

The sound Keith makes is high and reedy as he feels the head drag over his aching, wanting entrance.

“You’re going to be so good for me,” Shirogane growls as he leans over his back to place the words right at his ear, grip tightening on his hair.

“Only if you’re good for me,” Keith grits, bucking back into him. His eyelashes flutter at the soft brush of Shirogane’s groan at his ear.

“Yes,” he says, sounding almost as needy as Keith feels.

The heat along his back disappears as Shirogane pulls away. It feels like Keith is caught in a void in time as the only touch that remains is Shirogane’s grasp on his hair, before he feels the slick glide of a finger over his rim.

Bracing his arms outward, Keith clutches at the satin beneath him as he the sure press and gentle give as Shirogane presses his finger inward.

“Takashi,” Keith exhales as he pushes back against Shirogane’s hand. It’s the only invitation he seems to need as he starts to work him open with deft fingers. Soon after the first, he adds a second, and not too long after that, a third. His grip on the sheets only tightens at the rushed speed of Shirogane’s work, but still delighting in the sting of his intrusion. Each and every brush of his fingers moving inside him fans the flames in his gut until he’s certain his skin won’t be able to contain the fire.

He’s going to burn, and he’s going to take this whole damn mansion down with him.

Keith presses his smile into the mattress at the thought.

“Are you ready, baby?” Shirogane asks as he pulls his fingers away. The blunt tip of his dick nudges at his entrance before his hand finds itself on his hip. With the breadth of them both, his fingers nearly touch at his navel, just above where Keith’s dick stand hard against his stomach.

“Please, Takashi, please,” he hears himself almost sob before he pushes back against Shirogane, teeth gritting as the thick head pushes into him. Their moans are twinned as he starts to push further into him, inch by grueling inch, until he bottoms out.

Keith thinks he might just split apart with how full he is as Shirogane pauses in his movement, allowing them both a moment to just breathe.

Each of their gasps come in sync as Keith tries to find a way to ground himself. It’s all too much and yet not enough and he desperately needs. He aches with it, and he thinks he says as much because then Shirogane is moving in earnest.

He sets a brutal pace as he jackhammers into him, each staccato snap pressing Keith’s further into the mattress. There’s a brief moment of bitter clarity when he registers that the high pitched keens that match the tempo of Shirogane’s thrusts are pulling from his own mouth.

Keith’s knuckles protest as his grip tightens further in the sheets and he turns his face down into the mattress to muffle his sounds.

A palm traces down the line of his spine, traveling between his shoulder blades and finally wrapping around his throat before it wrenches him upward and back into Shirogane’s lap. The sudden change in position pushes him further into Keith, rubbing just right inside him and exploding stars in his vision.

Shirogane’s hold on his throat squeezes lightly as his other hand brushes across the expanse of his hip and finds his painfully hard length. Another high pitched gasp rocks through Keith at the contact, his hips pushing up into Shirogane’s fist and then coming back down on his cock before repeating the motion at a frenzied pace.

His vision starts to blur at its edges as Keith turns his head over his shoulder, blindly searching for Shirogane’s mouth. Appeasing him, he leans in close, pressing their open mouths together and swallowing each and every one of Keith’s punched out sounds.

The fire in his belly reaches an unimaginable pitch as it spreads through him. It races along the lines of his veins as he pushes his hands back to clutch at Shirogane’s shoulders, and as his toes begin to curl. Biting down around the aching burn, his teeth catch sharply on Shirogane’s lip, causing him to tighten his hold on Keith’s length.

White light, bright and inescapable, blots out his sight as he comes with the taste of Shirogane’s blood and violence on his tongue. His fist continues to pump over him, smearing his softening cock with his own cum as he chases his own pleasure and follows shortly after with a shout.

Keith’s hold on his shoulders tightens for just a moment as he tries to catch his breath, timing each inhale and exhale with the loud sound of his heartbeat crashing in his ears. The edges of his vision continues to blur as the soft, hazy brush of his pleasure feathers out through him, replacing the roiling heat of the now sated fires.

He thinks he hears a soft question at his ear, followed by the hush of a laugh on his cheek, but its all lost to him as he starts to settle into the warm depths of the after glow.

Lids growing heavy, he faintly registers the slow slide of Shirogane as he pulls out of him and sets him gently on the bed. Somewhere, just on the edges of his mind, he thinks he feels the gentle drag of something warm along his skin.

Keith thinks maybe, he feels the soft touch of a kiss at his temple, but by then, he’s already out.

***

Keith’s eyes protest against the bright sunlight as he slowly blinks them open. The room isn’t one he recognizes, and neither is the bed, at least, not until the night comes crashing back into his memory like a freight train.

Sitting up quickly, ignoring the drag of the satin as it pools around his waist, a rush of adrenaline cascades through his veins as he runs an alert glare across the room.

There isn’t sign of anyone else there, or even of the night’s activities. The only proof of what happened sits at the foot of his bed in the form of his folded clothes, and something about that makes him ache.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he pushes himself further back into the pillows so he’s sitting fully upright when a glint at the corner of his eye catches his attention.

Turning to the nightstand beside him, he can’t help the slow, hungry grin that turns his lips upward.

A note lays atop the mahogany with his knife stabbed through it.

 _Catch me if you can_ , it says, and beneath it is a smear of gold.

*********************

**Author's Note:**

> ~~five years later, after many failed assassination attempts and just as many successful orgasms, Keith finds himself under Shiro’s employ, they use their power for chaotic good, and they have a daughter whom they will destroy for. which, only makes me want to write a fic of power couple/murder dads and their happy domestic life with their daughter lmao~~


End file.
